Felton believes that there are two kinds of people, Cleanies and Messies. Right off the bat, that term, Messies, offended me. It is negative even though she tried to define them as busy people that have been overwhelmed or perfectionists that just give up with the size of the task.

Still, even after being constantly offended by the terminology, I carried on. Part 5, Interior Design for the Messie, had some of the best tips I have ever read on figuring out your style and decorating. If you have ever been stumped on just how to start with décor, this was great! The idea of starting from scratch is intimidating for people and it can be hard to trust your instincts. The book suggests collecting the things, colors, and fabrics that really speak to you, finding the things that they have in common, then running with that. Living Organized also reminds you to keep reality in mind when decorating. A white silk couch isn’t a good idea when you have three toddlers and a black dog, for example.

I was all ready to forgive being called a Messie and make some changes until I read the chapter titled, Dear Husband, A Letter to the Husband of the Messie. If I hadn’t been reading this on my iPod, it would have been thrown across the room and most likely burned in effigy. I have never had such a visceral reaction to ANY book before.

Let me just give you a taste.“You resent the condition of the house in which you are forced to live and imagine that the homes of other men returning home from work are havens of rest and order.“

“You felt that surely her pride as a wife and mother- as a woman- would help her overcome this chronic state……Surely if she cared more about you and the children or understood how important it was to you, she would try harder.”

My long hidden feminist hackles came out with a vengeance with this chapter. I don’t know about you, but I see a marriage as a team and the freaking messes don’t create themselves. While I work from home and accept that it means that I am the chief cook and bottle washer, that doesn’t mean that I am the maid. This may have been acceptable in the 1950’s, but it isn’t going to happen in my house today.